The Revolution Will Not Be Televised
by EthyleneGlycol
Summary: Harry Potter returns from his fifth-year bitter and cynical. He has big plans to win the war and change the world in the process, but who will be loyal to him? Friendships will be lost, alliances will be made, change is coming; it's revolution. HP/DG
1. Arrival

Disclaimer: Harry Potter is not mine. If it were, the last two books would be very different. This story is being written simply for pleasure and enjoyment. Anyway, on with the show...

**Chapter One: Arrival**

"Harry?"

"Yes?" I answered, somewhat disdainfully.

"Um…we're going to be in Hogsmede in a few minutes, just thought you'd like to know."

"Alright Hermione, thanks."

They were afraid of me. They were afraid of my anger, my power, my spite. They had ignored me for an entire summer yet were somehow surprised when I turned up at Kings' Cross, introverted and vengeful. They thought they could get away with ignoring me and they were wrong.

Ignoring Ginny and Hermione's gasps when I pulled my sweater off over my head I turned to put on my Hogwarts' robes. I always thought of them as something like a sister, or at the very least, close friends. I knew that I was muscular. I knew that I looked more masculine than I ever had before in my life. A summer of grief, frustration, and stress does that to a person. I exercised non-stop, just trying to find some peace. I might not be able to beat Voldemort in a duel yet, but I could give him one hell of a thumping in an arm-wrestling match.

"Put your robes on, Harry, otherwise someone will have to mop up after these two," Ron said sullenly, jabbing his thumb at Hermione and Ginny.

Sirius would have been proud of me for attracting this kind of attention, but Ron, Ron just grew jealous. I knew that he had a thing for Hermione, but alas, who am I to tell her who she should find attractive or not?

I leaned over to whisper in Ron's ear, "You'd like that job, wouldn't you mate?"

"Oh shut up Mr. Adonis," he said, the sarcasm in his voice evident.

I felt the train shutter to stop, so I left the compartment, robes billowing in my wake. I thought these robes made me look sinister, and dare I say, Snape-esque. Apparently they made me irresistible, as I noticed the female heads that turned in my direction.

Stepping out in to the night air, I breathed deeply, feeling free for the first time in two months. I was away from the Dursleys and back at Hogwarts, returning to the closest thing I had to a home since that Halloween night.

"Harry! Hold up mate, there's no need to go charging ahead, I didn't mean anything by it. Come on, let's get a carriage."

I followed Ron, Hermione, and Ginny into the nearest carriage, patting a thestral on the head as we walked by.

"How was your summer, Harry? I'm sorry that weren't allowed to owl you, but Dumbledore gave us explicit instructions not to. He said that any intercepted letter could put you in graver danger than you already were in and none of us wanted to do that to you. We're all really sorry Harry, you know that we all care about you very much don't you?" said Hermione in a rush, her diatribe leaving her momentarily breathless.

I glanced at Hermione, noticing that her eyes were bright. She wanted my forgiveness, she was genuinely sorry. You don't find many people like Hermione. She means what she says and is too stubborn not too stand behind it. But she also puts too much faith in authority figures. Sure it may have been dangerous to contact me, but she'll never have any idea how miserable that place I call home two months a year is. Those...those…people may not have laid a hand on me, but the emotional abuse and criminal negligence was another thing altogether. I would have killed myself this past summer if it had not been for the charity of Tonks and Remus, two of the more permanent figures from the Order on Privet Drive. They fed me when I was hungry and helped me when I needed it. But Hermione, Ron, Ginny, no one would ever understand that. None of them will understand just what it feels like to be truly alone. Even Tonks and Remus were risking their own necks to help me, as Dumbledore told them to keep their distance. But they put my well-being above their own, something no one had ever done for me before. Not even my "best" friends, who put Dumbledore's instructions above me. A long, hard road of repentance and confession lay ahead of them if they ever hoped to be what they once were to me. Noticing Ron's moodiness and Ginny's amorousness, I wasn't sure if that was a road they wanted to travel.

"My summer was fine, Hermione. The utterly complete isolation helped me so much."

Ron frowned, he knew there was something wrong with that answer, but he lacked the emotional faculties to work through it. Hermione must have missed the sarcasm though, as she appeared to be satisfied with my answer. Ginny just looked satisfied.

The carriage had come to a halt, and we filed out one by one. As I turned around to shut the door I heard an all too familiar voice.

"How's your dog doing, Scarhead?"

I turned towards Malfoy, with an anger I never felt before boiling up inside of me. I vaguely noticed a wind ruffling my hair, but putting it off as coincidence, I silenced Ron's retort with a wave of my hand and casually walked towards Malfoy. Before he knew what had happened, I had grabbed him around the throat and thrust my wand into his chest.

"Watch yourself Malfoy," I said quietly, aware everyone in the vicinity had their eyes turned on me, "You might just find I won't be taking your heavy handed attempts at humor this year."

I let go of the ferret, watching as he dropped to the ground in a dead faint. I turned to face the flabbergasted crowd behind me and said loudly, to no one in particular, "I'm starving, aren't you?"

Taking it as a dismissal, the crowd shuffled into the Great Hall, loud muttering being heard from everyone about what I just did. What did I care? I was Harry Potter, the Chosen One, these people were nothing compared to Voldemort. I couldn't afford to care about anyone else, could I? Any distraction is a bad distraction with a Dark Lord on the loose, a Dark Lord whose defeat rested solely on my shoulders.

* * *

_Now listen my students and you will hear,_

_A midnight tale of what you should fear, _

_On the 21__st__ of June, in '94,_

_One can hardly remain lost in lore,_

_If they wish to hear my tale._

_The Dark Lord Voldemort rose that night,_

_You wouldn't believe the terrible sight,_

_Our hero and savior he did attempt to kill_

_But he underestimated our Chosen One's skill_

_And he is the subject of my yarn._

_Child of stories, subject of books,_

_He had proven that he was not just for looks,_

_He fought the Dark Lord to the death,_

_And with his remaining breath, _

_He returned to us, and did not fail._

_A year and a day he was ignored,_

_Although he had implored,_

_That those in power should act,_

_But they did not, and that's a fact,_

_For the Dark Lord had become greater and more terrible than before._

_But now is the time, the time to make haste_

_Before the Dark Lord lays our world to waste,_

_We have no time, no window to wait,_

_For we must do something before it is too late._

_Otherwise Hogwarts shall not be safe._

_Slytherin, Ravenclaw, Hufflepuff, Gryffindor!_

_A call to arms, to unite, become one._

_Before the Dark Lord makes us no more._

_And now before all is said and done,_

_Let the Sorting begin, step up, find your place._

"Has the Sorting Hat ever told a story before?" asked Neville, who was on my left.

"In _Hogwarts, A History_ there was a note saying that for 438 consecutive years the Hat told a story about the Founders and how they related to their houses," said Hermione, still able to remember every page of that book.

"Yeah but they're dead," I said, musing aloud. "Perhaps that means I'll be dying this year?"

"Harry…" started Hermione, but she was interrupted by that familiar voice again.

"Even the Sorting Hat is a fan of yours Potter!" quipped Malfoy.

I withdrew my wand from my robes and stood up to face Malfoy, my hand steady, wand pointed directly at him.

"What's that Draco? I didn't quite hear you."

"SIT DOWN POTTER!" bellowed Snape from the head table, anger etched in every inch of his sallow face.

"Make me," I said, sticking my tongue out for effect, still holding my wand on Draco.

"Professor Snape, Mr. Potter, and Mr. Malfoy, would you please sit down? The start of term feast is no time for quarreling. All three of you will meet in my office once the feast is over, understood?"

I sat back down, tuning out Dumbledore's usual start of term announcements.

"Harry, what was that all about?" asked Dean, once Dumbledore had finished talking and the food appeared.

"I said I wasn't taking anymore of Malfoy's comments and quips this year, didn't I?" I replied, maybe with a bit more force than I had intended, as I realized that my mashed potatoes were beginning to bubble.

"Harry, how did you do that?" asked Hermione, sounding concerned.

"Do what?" I replied, picking up a dinner roll, attempting ignorance.

"Harry you know exactly what I'm talking about! Your mashed potatoes were bubbling, I saw them!" countered Hermione, practically jumping out of her seat.

"I have absolutely no idea what you're talking about Hermione, but I would greatly appreciate it if you would pass the gravy."

I was not in the mood to converse with anyone and all the people around me seemed to acknowledge that, talking around me, letting me eat in relative peace. The first real meal I've had in two months. Starvation does funny things to a person. Debilitating headaches, sleep deprivation, nutritional deficiencies, stunted growth, but as soon as that single morsel of food crosses your lips, you begin to improve. Eating the feast in front of me was like being reborn after the horrible summer. All too much work and not enough food.

Tonks was my lifeline. She brought me as much food as she could handle every time she had to watch me. Even if it was in the middle of the night, she always brought something. Remus was my teacher. He taught me to control my mind and focus my magic. Tonks taught me how to use my body and magic as a weapon, Remus taught me how to focus those weapons into an ungodly force. Apparently I'm a very powerful wizard. Who would have guessed? Not I for one. Surely not Tommy either. Dumbledore did. Dumbledore knew exactly what he was doing the night he put me on the Dursleys doorstep. Magic is similar to your muscles. The less you use it, the weaker it is. But also like muscles, some are born stronger than others; some much stronger than others.

"How was your summer mate?" asked Ron.

"Oh you know, more of the same. My life and wellbeing in danger daily, neglect, training, fun stuff," I said, perhaps a bit more rough than I had intended, but my summer was not a topic I wanted to talk about, "how was yours mate?"

"What's up Harry? How was your summer really?"

"Really Ron it wasn't too bad," I replied, avoiding his eyes, hoping he wouldn't see through the lie, "it was like most summers at the Dursley's, boring and fever inducing."

"You mean like that phrase Muggles use, 'cabin fever'?"

"Yes, of course," I said, hoping this passed for sincerity, "How was yours, Ron?"

Hurriedly swallowing a mouthful of potatoes, he launched into a longwinded diatribe about a Cannons game he saw at the beginning of August. Only half listening, I continued to methodically chew my food, taking in the sights and sounds of the raucous feast around me.

"Hey Harry," said Ginny, who was sitting across from me, "what happened to your glasses?"

I turned to look at Ginny, setting down my knife and fork. I briefly paused to contemplate how little I actually knew about the youngest Weasley, perhaps there was something there that I would appreciate having in a partner. Then again, maybe not, I thought as I looked at her. I couldn't deny that she was attractive, but the staring and lip licking was very unbecoming.

"I found a spell this summer that would fix my myopia and had Remus perform it for me," I said, giving her a small smile.

"Oh yeah?" she said, giving me a vapid smile. I swore she was hungrier looking at me than at the food on her plate.

"How was your summer?"

"Oh you know, the usual," she said, giggling and tossing her hair, "do you like broom closets Harry?" she asked, dropping a not so subtle hint.

"They're my favorite places, now that you mention it," I sighed, turning back to my food. Watching her continue to peer at me through her lashes, in what I imagine she hoped was an appealing manner. It made her look vaguely cross-eyed.

"Mine too, Harry," she said, in a breathy voice that made her sound like a prepubescent child.

"I'm glad we're on the same page," I said turning back to my food. After a brief moment she was engaged in a giggly conversation with Lavender about something or another. Probably me. Looking back at the food on my plate, I continued to contemplate the coming weeks and the past months. Tough times behind me, even tougher times ahead. There's that phrase, "what doesn't kill you, makes you stronger." If that saying holds true then the Dursleys have made me as strong as the hardest diamond.

Snapping out my reverie, I realized the feast was over. I saw Dumbledore at the staff table, conversing with McGonagall. He looked at me and nodded, so I stood up, wanting to make my way to the Headmaster's Office alone.

* * *

"Harry, may I ask why drew your wand on Mr. Malfoy?" asked Dumbledore, that eerie sense of calm that always emanated from him still continuing to do so.

"His blunt and terrible sense of humor is not appreciated," I replied, casually buffing my nails on my robes.

"You're just as arrogant as…" started Snape, before he was cut off by the Headmaster.

"Severus! Please! This will help nothing."

"Yeah Sevvy, do as you're told," I said, sneering right in Snape's greasy face.

"Harry, please, no more of this. In these troubled times…"

I cut off the Headmaster, having no wish to hear his speech about unity and all that at the moment. After what happened the past two months, a show of solidarity was beyond my grasp.

"No more of my actions? What about his actions?" I asked, gesturing towards Snape, "What about his actions of the past five years? How's that for showing a unified front? A student being subjected to insults and belittling simply for the fact that he happens to look like his father?"

"Headmaster, are you going to let this impudent little brat speak to me that way?" said Snape, who had turned a lovely shade of extra-sallow.

"Severus, why don't you and Mr. Malfoy," said Dumbledore, gesturing towards him and the forgotten blonde, "head back for the night. We can handle these issues at a different time. I'd just like a few words with Harry and then we can all turn-in for the night."

"But Headmaster…"

"Severus, please, tomorrow."

"Yes, Albus," said Snape, turning towards the door with a swish of his robes and one last malevolent glance towards me, "Come Draco."

Malfoy turned to follow Snape out the door, sneering at me all the while, slamming it behind him.

"Harry," started Dumbledore, "I know that it is getting late and you've had a long day, but there are a few things I'd like to discuss briefly. Please, take a seat."

Settling into one his characteristic squishy purple armchairs, I sat back and waited for the Headmaster to question me, lecture me, and make me roll my eyes; most likely in that order.

"I hope you had a good summer, Harry, and I'm sorry that I wasn't able to do more to make life a little more comfortable for you," started Dumbledore, making me roll my eyes first of all.

"It was a wonderful summer Professor, I discovered a wonderful new forced starvation diet, perhaps I should write a book and make millions in the Muggle world?"

"What happened to you this summer, Harry? What could have possibly adversely affected you so much as compared to other summers?"

And so began the series of questions.

"Are you telling me that the Order presence at Privet Drive really doesn't do very much?" I questioned Dumbledore, already knowing the answer, Remus having explained it to me after one particularly grueling week back from Hogwarts.

"We can't see inside the house, Harry, that's what your relatives are for," replied Dumbledore, serenely, as if this was the most obvious question in the world, "the guard there is simply there for the purposes of alerting you and any others who might be in danger of a Death Eater appearance on Privet Drive."

"Then your Order has failed hasn't it? I wasn't protected at all. I was in more danger from those inside the house than those outside of it, wasn't I?"

"Harry, I know you and your relatives don't get along all that great, but…"

"No, Headmaster, there are no 'buts', I don't like them and they'd rather I crawled up in the gutter and died."

"Don't you think you're being a tad extreme?"

"No I am not, you will never be able to understand what I have been subjected to, having lived there for 15 years. This summer," I paused, taking a breath, "this summer was it Headmaster, no longer can I be subjected to that. You have no idea how close I was to dying this summer, do you? Have you ever gone two weeks without eating, _sir_?"

"No I have not."

I took a deep breath, I didn't want to relive the memories yet, especially in front of the Headmaster. He deserved to know, yes. He deserved to be tormented by the thoughts of what happened to me just as I am tormented by them now. Tonight was not the night, though, he wouldn't have believed me.

"Harry?"

"Yes, Professor?"

"Why didn't you tell anyone? Your messages said you were fine."

"I was assured that being inside of that house was the safest place for me to be," and with that sentiment, I turned and walked quickly out of the office, leaving a dumbstruck Headmaster in my wake.

* * *

I walked swiftly back towards Gryffindor Tower, wishing to collapse into bed as soon as possible. Unfortunately, this was not to be, as I had run headlong into a feminine form.

"Excuse me," I said politely, pausing to steady myself and her.

"Do watch where you're going, Potter," said her cold voice.

Staring into those violet eyes, eyes that every male in Hogwarts were enchanted by yet afraid to approach because they came with the risk of castration, I risked my future children in responding to her.

"As you wish, my queen," I said, with an over exaggerated bow.

I looked at her, hoping for any sort of response. A wink, a smile, a giggle, any kind of response. I was Harry Potter after all; the only people that didn't respond to me were either dead or Muggle. I most definitely hoped that this person in front of me was neither, as that would mean something had gone very wrong in the sending of a Hogwarts letter this year. And the past five. I continued to look at her, awaiting her response.

"I'll let that one slide, but don't test your luck again," she said, turning to leave.

Very disappointing, I must admit.

"What are you doing out this late anyway? It's past curfew."

"None of your damn business, Potter. Now if you refuse to stop your incessant questioning, I shall have to reconsider my offer of letting your cheek go unpunished."

"By all means, Ms. Greengrass," I replied, gesturing down the corridor.

There was something about that Slytherin I had to admit, as I watched her wavy blue-black hair and shapely figure move away down the hall from me.

"You better not be looking at me," said a distant voice.

Smiling, I continued on my way to the dormitory, and hopefully bed, as long as the future didn't hold anymore Slytherins in my path.

* * *

"What did Dumbledore have to say?" Ron asked, his sleepy voice drifting out from behind his bed curtains as I stepped into the dormitory.

I paused for a second to consider my answer, deciding how much to reveal to him.

"Oh you know the usual: 'We all need to work together in these troubled times…violence is not the answer...it's time to put all our difference and preconceived notions behind us'… the typical Dumbledore stuff."

"Work with Malfoy? Ha, right. Next time he'll be saying that we need to start keeping blast-ended skrewts as pets. He's brilliant, but he's too short-sighted to see past the end of his crooked nose," Ron said, with much more insight than was normal for him.

"Are you ok, Ron? That was much more insightful than everything I've ever heard you say the past five years."

"I'm fine, Harry, I've just been thinking. Are you fine? It seems like you're hiding something."

Thinking about the past summer and even what happened tonight, I was lucky that Ron was unable to see my grimace.

"No Ron, I've told you everything. Nothing really happened this summer."

"I'm really sorry that I didn't write to you, Harry. Dumbledore's orders and all that. If Dumbledore wants something done, you don't really go against it."

I could not help the flaring of my anger and magic upon hearing that statement. So what Dumbledore wanted was more important than my wellbeing, and even more importantly, our friendship? Ron was a coward, I had known this, but he was always a loyal coward. Apparently I could not hope to compete with Dumbledore for Ron's loyalties.

I moved towards my bed, wanting nothing more to sleep on a comfortable mattress for the first time in two months when I heard Ron's muffled voice one more time.

"Harry, is it just me or has it gotten really hot in here?"

With some effort I reined in the magic that had flared in hearing Ron's declaration of loyalty. I was going to have to watch that. Only two other people in the world knew just how powerful I was, neither of them were Voldemort or Dumbledore, and I wanted to keep it that way.

"You're probably just sleepy, Ron."

Hearing gentle snoring coming from the bed across from mine, I knew that he had already dropped off. I quickly stripped off my clothes in order to do the same. As I waited for sleep to overtake me, my sleepy thoughts were once again filled with images of Sirius, glass balls, and Privet Drive. But there was something else this time as well. A pair of violet eyes had managed to infiltrate my thoughts before I fell into a satisfying slumber.

A/N: Well there you have it, the first chapter. What did everyone think? I'll try to keep updates weekly, but I can't promise that. If you have a question or suggestion in regards to the story just leave me a review and I'll try and get back to you. I have big plans for this story and I hope everyone sticks around for the ride.


	2. The Offer

Disclaimer: Harry Potter not mine and all that jazz.

After much delay, here is chapter of The Revolution Will Not Be Televised, I'll have a longer note at the end, but for now, on with the show.

**Chapter Two: The Offer**

"Who is that?" I asked, looking at the new professor sitting at the head table.

Hermione gave her very characteristic Hermione-ish huff before answering. I call it her Hermione-ish huff because if anyone else was able to make that noise and express disdain at the same time I would have to label that person as not human. Probably a giraffe; a giraffe with the ability to act superior to every other giraffe while still being a generally good person, an insufferable and self-righteous good person, but a good person all the same.

Through with her huffing, she asked me a question I've heard all too many times over the years, "Honestly Harry, didn't you pay attention?"

"Attention to what Hermione? I did pay attention to the possibility of setting fire to Snape's greasy hair."

"Professor Snape, Harry."

"Whatever," I said, frustrated with her, and everyone else's, attempts to have me willingly place the words 'Professor' and 'Snape' in the same sentence, in a respectful way. I would have no problem with saying, 'Snape wouldn't know how to be a Professor if it walked up and shrunk his nose to a normal size,' but alas, some consider that to be immature.

"Harry…"

"Please Hermione, drop the holier-than-thou attitude and tell me what this big secret is. You scolding me like a child does nothing."

If she had been anymore taken aback by my response she would have been eating last night's feast all over again. I think I shocked the answer out of her. She knew that both Ron and I didn't always appreciate her lectures, but I doubt that she ever imagine that we were upset by them. Holier-than-thou, remember?

"That's Professor Karamazov, the new defense teacher. Dumbledore hired him away from Durmstrang," said Hermione, dully, as if she were answering a teacher's question, without her normal excitement and enthusiasm. She looked generally rebuffed by my previous statements, but I found myself to have little concern for them. This wasn't the Harry who lashed out at everyone during fifth year because he was angry at everything. This was the Harry who knew who and what he was angry with and knew how to direct it to get things done. Hermione was one of many to have drawn my ire. She had to have an idea of the state I was in at the end of last year, but she did nothing; nothing to help the person who is supposed to be one of her best friends. I knew Hermione had an absurd amount of respect in authority figures, which is why I was unable to get as mad at her for what she had done as I had Ron. She also was never a jealous git, unlike a jealous git I know so very well. Regardless of her reasoning, it still hurt, and just like Ron, I needed to know where her loyalties laid.

"Harry, what's wrong? You've been angstier than usual."

"I'm fine Hermione, just getting used to eating again."

"Harry? What happened to you?"

"Nothing Hermione. Remember, I was in the safest place I could be after all."

"Harry, please don't do this to us. We're your friends. We're on your side. You know you can trust us."

I couldn't take this. My magic and my anger, both so near the surface these days, were both beginning to bubble over, threatening to engulf us both. I watched her eyes widen. She was scared. Good. Maybe this time she'll learn that she needs to be able to trust me and my ability to make my own decisions.

"Trust you? You want me to trust you? After what you lot put me through this summer?" My eyes were flashing, I saw Hermione backing away from me, but I didn't care, these things needed to be said, "You don't trust me Hermione! You trust those who you expect to think for you! Do you think I care what Dumbledore says in concern of my well-being? I won't make you think too hard. I don't care one bit! Look at where Dumbledore's influence has gotten my well-being. I was a tortured slave, Hermione, and you and the rest of my supposed friends did nothing but enable Dumbledore's agenda, which in turn added to the direness of my situation. Trust? You want trust? You have to earn it Hermione, and right now, you have the entire slope of Everest to climb."

I took a deep breath and turned away from her, striding down the length of the table, heading back to the dormitory. I needed some breathing room and I didn't want to lose face in front of Hermione. She had been long due for that, but that doesn't mean I enjoyed doing it. I still cared about her. I still wanted to be friends with her. Hell, I even cared about Ron, even though there was no doubt as to where he would turn when the chips were down. In a world where Harry Potter had many friends, these two would be of no concern. But I had to be the bigger man. I had to show them that even if they didn't value my friendship, I valued there's. There was nothing I could do but wait and hope for the best I suppose.

I had just started up the steps when I ran straight into McGonagall.

"Mr. Potter, where are you off to?"

"I'm on a journey to the center of the Earth," I responded, lacking a better response.

"I hope that journey doesn't detain you for too long, Mr. Potter, as you have classes to attend and a Quidditch team to captain," she responded with her usual brusqueness.

I smiled a little, McGonagall never missed a beat.

"Captain, Professor? Wouldn't someone like Katie be a better choice? She has seniority at the very least."

"No Mr. Potter, there is no doubt in my mind that you would be the best choice for captain this year. Ms. Bell owled me within a week of term ending last summer to inform me that you would be a much better choice to lead the team this year. I whole-heartedly agree with her," she said, and pulled the Captain's badge from one of the pockets of her robe and handed it to me, "Don't give me reason to doubt this choice, Harry."

"I won't, Professor," I said, with an odd feeling. It was respect. I realized that McGonagall was one of the few authority figures that I had any wish to work with. Her opinion mattered to me and this was a newfound feeling. Those in power never gave me any reason to trust them: Dumbledore played with my life from afar, Fudge defamed and belittled me, and Umbridge, I thought, with an almost visible shudder, was just a cruel and sadistic bitch. "Are you sure I'm the right person?"

"You're a leader Mr. Potter, and if the DA has taught us anything, it's that you're a good one."

I didn't know how to respond to that, "Thank you."

"You've earned it, Harry, don't let me down."

"I won't, Professor, thank you again."

I started to walk away, thinking our impromptu meeting had come to a close. I was mistaken though, as I heard her voice call to me.

"Now Mr. Potter, here is your schedule. We mustn't forget that this is primarily a place of education. While I expect you to do well on the Quidditch pitch, I also expect your success in the classroom. You've been holding back on us, Mr. Potter, if your exam scores were any indication."

"Probably a fluke, Professor McGonagall."

"Nine O.W.L.s, six of them outstanding, is no fluke, Mr. Potter. There is no shame in taking pride in one's achievements."

I knew I was smart. I had always known it. The Dursleys didn't appreciate me outshining their 'Dudders' though; I learned to hide it. Being smart brought attention to a person and attention was something I never wanted. I was never unnoticed in the Wizarding World and if I could get through school without being recognized for anything, the happier I'd be. I was Harry. I always wanted to be Harry. Not the intelligent, athletic, and world-saving Harry. Just Harry. But that was something I never was and probably am destined to never be. Especially after I defeat Voldemort; the prophecy said that either one of us could die, and I have no intention of doing so. The next time me and ol' Tommy Boy meet will prove to be a duel for the ages.

"What's wrong, Harry?"

As I looked into her face, I knew that she knew why I was modest to a fault. I don't know how I could tell, but she knew, and I could also tell that she and Dumbledore would be having a long talk about my life, thus far, in the near future. I glanced down at my schedule, grimacing when I saw that I had Potions in the afternoon.

"I have Potions on the first day back," I responded, in a half-hearted attempt to direct her attention away from the issue of my extreme modesty.

Surprisingly, she let out a laugh, a laugh that sounded like it came from a woman half her age.

"Harry, don't let him get you down, you might find that he's a changed this year. You didn't hear this from me, but if he starts to give you trouble, transfigure something into a butterfly," she said, with what looked like a wink; had to have been a speck of dirt.

I chuckled, "A butterfly? Did he once end up on the wrong end of a fight with a moth?"

"Let's just say that there was once a disagreement involving Severus and your father and one of them ended up with butterfly wings for a week."

I laughed, picturing a surly, greasy, and gangly Snape with vibrant wings sticking out the back of his robes.

"Well, Mr. Potter," she began, regaining her formality, "I must distribute the schedules of the rest of the House, have a good first day. By the way, what is your first class?"

I looked at my schedule, "Defense Against the Dark Arts, Professor."

"Trust me, you're going to like Professor Karamazov, Mr. Potter," she said, walking off down the corridor.

As I watched her go, I couldn't help thinking, 'I already do, Professor. I already do.'

* * *

"All of you, sit down and shut up. Ve have tings to do today and I will not be hindered by the likes of you."

I had to give it to the new Russian Defense Professor, the man knew how to command the attention of the class. Unlike Professors McGonagall and Snape he didn't do it through intimidation, he was able to do it through a combination of brute force and a ruthless attitude towards the likes of us. When some educators attempt this technique they fail miserably, but in Professor Karamazov's case, there was a feeling that disagreeing with him would bring dire consequences upon the perpetrator. This new professor had seen much and done much and he had the air of man who knew how to always come out on top.

"Now, I don't believe in taking ze roll, but Profeszor Dumbledore says dat it is very important. I disagree, but maybe dat is why I am not ze Headmaster, but only a lowly Profeszor. If you do not want to come to class, don't, I'm sure dat ve von't miss you," he said the last part while looking at everyone's favorite ferret. To his credit, Malfoy was able to keep a visible reaction to a minimum, or maybe it was just that magenta was a fitting color for his complexion.

"Now, for ze roll," he said, while pulling a roll of parchment from inside his robes, "you will respond promptly and clearly when your name is said. If you do not…well let's just say I'm not a patient person and being kept waiting vill make me an unhappy man."

As he read through our names I couldn't help focusing on this man in front of me. He was similar to a Remus Lupin that was 30 years older. Except instead of appearing fatherly and congenial, he gave off the air of one's uncle who just retired from the armed services. Ivan Karamazov was not a man to be trifled with.

"Harry Potter," said Karamazov, his sharp voice cutting through my thoughts.

"Here," I responded, not wanting to keep him waiting.

He looked at me for a second, his gaze intent; he was searching for something. I just hoped that I would pass whatever test he was subjecting me to, because I don't think I would like the consequences if I failed.

"You will stay after class, Mr. Potter."

And with that, as if nothing had happened, he continued on with attendance. I could feel everyone's eyes on me but I didn't care. I was shocked. What did he want from me? He probably knew 75 ways to kill me before I would be able to raise a hand in defense.

With a snap, Karamazov shoved the list of names into a draw contained somewhere within his giant desk. He looked at up us, a mysterious glint in his eyes, and slowly surveyed the room; he was sizing us up, or at least, that's how I felt. Looking around the room myself, I determined that I wasn't the only one that felt this way. In fact, taking in Neville's gulping and Ron's profuse sweating, I thought I was in pretty good shape, all things considered.

"As you all should be aware of, my name is Profeszor Ivan Karamazov, and I shall be referred to as such. I am better than all of you and you shall show me the respect that is deserving of a man in my position. If you try and outsmart me, you vill fail. If you try and take me on, you vill fail. If you try and sneak behind my back, you vill fail, and you vill experience my wrath in its strongest form. This is the only varning I vill give you, do not expect me to be forgiving."

I swear I could hear Neville quietly sniffling behind me, but being too afraid to take my eyes off of Professor Karamazov, I decided that it would be better off imagining Neville was quietly sobbing, as opposed to confirming my suspicions and being cursed by this unfeeling man in front of me.

"I am not here because I vant to be, I am here because just as it seems so many others do, I owe Dumbledore a favor. If I like this job, perhaps I shall stay. But if you all prove to be just as unteachable as any other group of children, I shall resign from this position, with great prejudice, at the end of the year."

I noticed the lack of title that he gave to Dumbledore, and by the look of consternation on Hermione's face, she did as well. Regardless, any person who wasn't utterly loyal to Dumbledore, as so much of the wizarding world appeared to be, was someone I could get behind. This Russian was definitely the type of man I could find a reason to work with.

"Now if you don't tink you're up to scratch vit how I vill be teaching you, please leave and do not return. I vill not have anyone slowing down the progress of this class," he pointed to the door, "You all can see it. If you don't think you're ready for this class, please leave. Now!"

Nobody moved. Perhaps they wanted to learn from him, perhaps their fear made essential motor functions an impossible task; whatever their reasoning was, they were going to learn from the Professor. Willingly or unwillingly, the reason didn't matter, not to my fellow students and certainly not to Professor Karamazov. Just like Dumbledore, he straddled the line that separated insanity and genius. Unlike Dumbledore, who stayed firmly in between the two, I had a feeling this man enjoyed jumping back and forth, just for the sake of keeping everyone on their toes. An opponent you can't predict is an opponent that has already become more dangerous. Professor Karamazov may just be the most dangerous man this side of Voldemort.

He abruptly stopped speaking, "Class dismissed."

I got up with the rest of the class, but instead of rushing towards the door like everyone else, with trepidation I made my way towards the front of the room where Professor Karamazov was staring at me as if he were a fisherman sizing up his catch.

"I understand you must defeat the Lord of Darkness, no?"

Apparently the nomenclature is different on mainland Europe; they appeared to be just as afraid of the name as we are here though.

"No, Mr. Potter, do not mistake my reluctance to use his name with fear. My reasons are not vital to this discussion but if you continue to make assumptions of my motives or of I, this discussion is over and no discussions shall take place in the future. Do I make myself clear?"

He said this all without a trace of the accent he had earlier, something I took note of but refused to question him about, "What did you want to talk about, Professor?"

"You're learning, Mr. Potter," he said, with a trace of a smile, "Now, yes or no, his defeat comes down to you?"

Damn my lack of Occlumency, "Yes, Professor, it does."

"Just as I figured. Only those with the blindest of loyalty for Dumbledore would assume differently. That is just about everyone on this godforsaken island though. You have a class, I presume?"

"Yes sir."

"You are dismissed. I will be in the Entrance Hall at nine o'clock tonight, don't keep me waiting."

* * *

I was sprinting down the corridor to the dungeons, not wanting to be late for the first Potions class of the year and losing Gryffindor the largest amount of points ever seen in Hogwarts' history at any point in time. My mind was racing from the short conversation that just took place but I knew that if I wanted to avoid trouble in Snape's classroom I was going to have to shove those thoughts to the side for awhile, at least until Snape stopped paying attention to me and settled down to malevolently glare at me from time to time; such a wonderful student-professor relationship we had. I can see it now, my biography containing three chapters about my interactions with Snape. It would read like a soap opera I imagine; people painting Snape as some sort of misunderstood man who had been hurt too many times by those he loved as opposed to the bitter and twisted man that he is.

"Class started two minutes ago, Potter. If you're going to be a celebrity, you have to learn how to keep a tight schedule, what with all those press conferences and photo-ops. Twenty points from Gryffindor; sit down immediately unless you want it to be more."

"Let's just see how high you can count, Sevvy," I said, defiantly crossing my arms and holding steady at the threshold of the door.

"Detention Potter, tonight at nine o'clock, in the Entrance Hall."

Surprised at the place and time I walked meekly over to a spare seat and sat down next to Seamus. Was it a coincidence or did he know something?

"Now that our beloved celebrity has made it to class," Snape said, with a sneer aimed in my direction, he waved his wand at the board, causing miniscule instructions to appear, "You may begin."

I stood up, along with the rest of the class, and made my way over to the store cupboard, retrieving the ingredients needed for what I was sure was going to be a complex and finicky potion; wouldn't want to let us off too easy on the first day.

"Get out of my way, Potter," came a voice dripping with venom, "I have better things to do than stand behind you while you're dragging your feet."

I quickly turned and found myself looking down into those dark eyes I had seen only one night before, "Your wish is my command, my lady," I said, pantomiming a mocking bow.

In one quick movement she had spun around and had her wand drawn and pointed directly between my eyes.

"What did I tell you about testing your luck, Potter?"

I was about to answer her but a shout from the front of the classroom interrupted my forthcoming response.

"Potter! Greengrass! Just what is it do you think you're doing?"

"I was just trying to deflate his head, Professor Snape," said Daphne, in an irritating display of faux innocence that I could never hope to pull off.

"Why are you antagonizing my students, Mr. Potter?"

"I felt like it, Professor," I replied, not removing my eyes from Daphne's wand.

"Greengrass, put the wand down and return to your cauldron. Potter, if you would be so kind as to put even a small fraction of the effort you use in maintaining your arrogance into this class, I would be much obliged," Snape said, sweeping away to terrorize Parvarti and Lavender.

"You heard him, Potter, get away from me!"

"But of course," I responded, quickly grabbing what I needed from the store cupboard and striding over to my already boiling cauldron.

She sure is something else, I thought, glancing over; her hair was tied up in a ponytail and she was vigorously chopping at her ginger roots; an important ingredient in what a quick glance at the board informed me was eventually supposed to be Skele-Gro.

"Harry," came Hermione's voice from my left-side, "you need to stop antagonizing Professor Snape and the Slytherins."

"Why would I consider doing that, Hermione? Out of respect? Out of fear? Out of what exactly? I neither fear nor respect Snape and I have no intention of giving him the impression of either. He is a bitter and spiteful little man who deserves nothing but the worst in life. As for the Slytherins, what would be the point of acting courteous towards them? The hope that they'll come to accept me as a person rather than someone which scorn should be heaped upon? That's a nice dream Hermione; it's a utopia in fact. Utopias do not exist."

"If everyone worked together one could. If you worked with the Slytherins, or at least found some common ground, I would imagine a harmonious existence could be derived from the cooperation. You don't have to keep fighting them, Harry."

I paused, taking a deep breath; I was both frustrated and gripped by admiration for her stubbornness. As brilliant as she was, her enduring optimism and sense of goodwill would be her downfall. She had something I could never hope to emulate; an ability to see only the good side of people and things and as a result saw no reason for the best possible outcome for everyone to occur every time. My worldview, as jaded as it has become, did not allow for this. People may be inherently good but when you only see the worst of humanity you don't have much hope for a display of goodwill from those who dislike you. Snape and the Slytherins could be bloody saints for all I care; as long as I only continue to experience the anger and resentment directed towards me from them, I will continue to see them as petulant children; deserving of all the terrible things that life has in store for them. Does this make me spiteful? Probably. But when your life is governed by a scar on your forehead and some vague words from a funny little woman, sometimes spite is all you have.

"Harry?" whispered Hermione, breaking my reverie, "Did you hear what I said?"

"I have to keep fighting them Hermione, that's all there is to it. If I give into this lot, how can I hope to standup to Voldemort and his minions?"

"It's not the same Harry…" she started, but I cut her off.

"It's exactly the same, Hermione. It's all about a test of wills between The-Boy-Who'd-Rather-Not-Have-to-Deal-With-This-Shit and Voldemort's personal idiot squad. If I lose, Hermione, we all lose."

"You're not in this alone, Harry," she said, resting what I would imagine she considered to be a comforting hand on my shoulder. I could have laughed out loud at that statement, but she of course didn't know the whole story.

"I know that, Hermione, but that doesn't mean I need to give in to the Slytherin House and its personal vendetta against me."

"Harry…"

"Just leave it, Hermione," I said, adding the last ingredient of the potion for this step of the process.

"Ok, Harry, if that's what you want," a defeated tone permeated her voice.

She'll learn one day, if she doesn't, this world is going to chew her up and spit her out and all of her brilliance will be for naught.

"Leave your cauldrons the way they are for now; if you have done it right you will pick up where you left off next class; if it was brewed wrong, you will know," he said this, saving a malevolent glare just for me, "Class dismissed."

I had my things packed up and was turning to leave when once again I heard the voice I most loathe come from behind me, "Would you stay behind for a minute, Potter? There is something I'd like to discuss with you and I'm sure your…sidekicks…will be fine without you for a few minutes."

"Go ahead guys, I'll be along to dinner in a few minutes."

"Alright, Harry," said Ron, turning to leave.

"Let me take your bag," Hermione said, taking it from me and leaving with Ron.

"How touching."

"What did you want to discuss with me, _sir_?"

"There's a reason why I gave you detention when I did, Potter. Do you know what that reason is?"

"I do."

"Good. I ask of you to not be a hotheaded and impudent child this evening; this meeting will benefit not only you, but I as well, and though I do not feel comfortable risking my future on you, it is the only option available to me. Now go, I will see you tonight."

* * *

Dinner was a stilted affair that evening: I was battered by questions from all sides, questions that I had no answers too. Nobody believed that though; I was Harry Potter, the Chosen One, how could I not have the answers to Snape's reason for giving me detention? Though I had to wonder, since when had he ever needed a reason?

"Hey mate," said Ron, as I started desert, having weathered the storm of questions from most of my fellow house. Ginny's storm of drool might need a mop though; perhaps Madame Pomfey had a potion to cure whatever was wrong with her salivary glands, "What did Snape keep you after class for?"

Of course this piqued everyone's interest once again. Damn your timing, Ron, damn your timing.

"Oh you know, the usual threats. 'If you step out of line one more time, Potter, I'll have your head' or 'If you insist on acting like an arrogant child with an inflated sense of self-worth, a week of nights spent disemboweling skunks would clear that right up, don't you think?' Seriously Ron, it was nothing out of the ordinary for Snape."

"Remember, Harry," Hermione said from my other side, as Ron returned to the food in front of him, "You don't have to keep struggling against him. The Slytherins may not be on your side, but Snape is."

I snorted derisively at this comment, "No Hermione, he is most definitely not on my side. On _our_ side? Maybe, but I think that's debatable as well. I think the only side Snape is on is Snape's side; at the moment that includes Dumbledore. It does not include anyone else."

"Harry, why are you suddenly so bitter? What happened to you?"

Genuine concern shown from her eyes but it was not the time for me to divulge the previous events of this summer. I needed to find out what Snape and Karamazov wanted with me before I moved forward at Hogwarts. If I told Hermione about my rocky relationship with the Dursleys, I would be pinned under Dumbledore's thumb for the duration of my remaining time at school; something I could not afford.

"Let's just say…I did some growing this summer."

For the most part this statement was actually true, as I had managed to grow about a half-foot since the end of June. Of course Hermione would see right through this, but I still received some gratification for not telling an outright lie to one of my oldest and dearest friends; one of my oldest and dearest friends at the moment anyway.

"I can see right through that facade, Harry; I care about what caused you to change this summer and you know it."

I pinched the bridge of my nose in frustration, "I know Hermione, but I can't talk about it right now. I have a detention in," I checked my watch, yes it's a new one, I splurged on something for myself the first time in my life, "roughly forty-five minutes, and I want to go and calm down first so I don't blow up on Snape in the first ten minutes. After that, I can make no promises."

I got up to leave and Hermione stood up right along with me.

"It may not seem like it sometimes, but I believe in you, Harry," and with this, she wrapped her arms around me in a style that must be reminiscent of a teenage Molly Weasley.

"Thank you, Hermione, really."

With a small smile I strode into the Entrance Hall and out onto the grounds to take a calming stroll in the moonlight. Remus taught me some simple meditative exercises for situations like these; who would have thought a temperamental teen would ever need help in cooling down?

* * *

I opened the doors to the castle at precisely nine o'clock and was greeted by the visages of Professors Karamazov, Snape, and surprisingly, McGonagall.

"Mr. Potter, we don't have much time so I plead that you hold your tongue and listen to what Professors Karamazov and Snape have to say."

"How did you know about this meeting, Professor McGonagall?" I asked.

"I initiated it. Now quiet, anymore questions can be answered in a few minutes."

"Alright, Mr. Potter, we have a lot to talk about and not much time to do it before we are discovered. What I want to submit for your consideration is a temporary escape, for you, from underneath Dumbledore's thumb. This sojourn will allow you to refine your skills and hopefully with this training you will become a formidable threat to not only the Dark Lord, but as a way of keeping Dumbledore's manipulative hands off of you. Are you with me thus far?"

My head was spinning. Wasn't this the opportunity I had been waiting for? A chance to get away from Dumbledore and his influence, a chance to acquire the tools I needed to win this war, a chance to be free. Of course I was with Professor Karamazov; he was telling me the things I was so desperate to hear.

"Yes, sir."

"Severus, I believe you had a few words to say?"

As Snape opened his mouth to begin speaking, I couldn't help objecting.

"You want me to follow a plan that Snape has devised? A man who despises me? Do I look like I'm stupid? That I'm incapable of rational decisions?"

"Quiet, foolish boy. Severus is the only reason I'm able to offer you this…vacation…and you will listen to him and you will approve of what he has to say."

"Yes, indeed. Thank you, Ivan," said Snape, in his usual silky tone, "Now, Mr. Potter, there are contacts in America that I am in touch with for Order business and it is my belief that you would benefit us all by spending some time in their hands as opposed to being slowly crushed by Dumbledore's boot-heel. Wouldn't you agree?"

"I suppose so, _sir_," I replied, unable to keep the biting tone from my voice.

Professor Karamazov stepped back into the conversation, "Are we in agreement then, Mr. Potter, you will go to America and become the wizard that you truly need to be? Quickly now, we don't have much time. You must decide now, Mr. Potter, Dumbledore and death or America and a chance. There is no other route for you, for the entire world as we know it, I am afraid."

I thought for a moment; what Karamazov and Snape were offering me was tempting, more tempting than anything I had ever been offered before. Even the boundless power and eternal life that Voldemort had once offered me could not compare to this. They were offering me freedom; something I had never had before.

"Do you trust this idea, Professor?" I asked, turning to look at McGonagall.

"I do Harry."

"Do you think this is the best way for these goals to be accomplished?"

"Best way? Not necessarily. But then again, this is really the only way. You have to get away from the British Isles and Continental Europe, and unless you want to be mired in the uncompromising mess and wild that is Southeast Asia and South and Central America, North America is the only place on this planet that is free from Albus' influence. Ivan has provided the means and Severus has supplied the needed personnel."

I turned to face Snape and Karamazov.

"Let's do it."

"The plan is quite simple. We have a portkey ready and waiting to send you to America at six-thirty tomorrow morning. Severus' people have been alerted to expect your arrival and will provide you with further instructions when you are on American soil. I do not want to say too much yet as there may be unwelcome eavesdroppers within this castle."

"How do you plan on explaining away my absence to Dumbledore and the school? Harry Potter's sudden disappearance would not go unnoticed in the best of times, and these times are certainly not anything like the best."

"We have that covered Harry," said McGonagall, reentering the conversation, "I do not like this anymore than you do, but it is the best option available to us and it needs to be done. You are needed to defeat Voldemort and free the world from his grasp and the Headmaster is simply not providing you with the tools needed to defeat him. I have met the people you will be staying with and learning from and they are fine people on all accounts. Good luck, Harry; I will be seeing you in about a month's time."

With those parting words, she turned on her heel and strode quickly into the semi-dark that engulfed the interior of the castle.

"What's the plan?" I asked of the two men standing in front of me.

"You will find out when you reach the States; the less you know while inside of this castle the better off you will be. Severus and I will meet you at the gates to see you off. Good night, Mr. Potter."

"One more question. Where exactly in North America am I going?"

"Wisconsin."

And with that they left, leaving me alone in the dim light of the Entrance Hall.

Shit. I didn't even know where Wisconsin was.

A/N: This chapter took me a lot longer for me to finish than I had originally planned, but between finals, writer's block, discarding four different outlines for the direction I wanted to take the story, and transferring to a new university, it took me awhile to finally finish getting all I wanted for this chapter onto paper. Now that I know where I want this story to go and I'll be able to play around with a new environment hopefully updates will take two weeks at the max, but I'm not going to promise anything. Regardless, I hope you enjoyed this chapter and are looking forward to the next one. I do read all the reviews so if you have something to say about the story don't be afraid to drop me a line; in fact I encourage you to do so, whether it be criticism or just saying you enjoyed the story.


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